QR Code Murders: Official Orders

“It’s like everybody has this ideal of holding hands around a campfire, singing Kumbaya, but in reality, everyone is playing some perverse version of high stakes poker,” Kim pointed out. Her anger was palpable. It stemmed from the fact Parton could walk free if the jury found him not guilty.

“Why do you see the world like that?”

“I just do ‘Quisha!” Kim snapped.

“Remember Anthem?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Reread it tonight.”

“And I’m doing that because….”

“It is because you should shift your world view.”

Kim was roiled. But she was smiling slightly. It was like she stepped over coals but somehow there was a balm on her feet that prevented her from scorching herself. There was a bit of assuredness in her demeanor as they rolled around Wilmington. The car ride was like a mini therapy clinic. Kim got to vent and Yawquisha listened intently. In Kim’s mind, hellfire rained down and sought to engulf her entire being. A mixture of knowledge and uncertainty produced a giant question mark over her days as a cop. Yawquisha turned the camera on Kim. The detective switched her tone. It was a low graceful tone wrapped in harshness.

“Yes, it’s a cold-blooded world and I’m supposed to be the one to warm it up. It’s expected of me to train my focus and know-how into dealing with the scum of the Earth like Parton. If he walks….”

Yawquisha maintained her focus on her subject. Her battery life was full and she relished the idea of being able to better understand Kim Jergensen. In her mind, her own soul, she kept the streets clean like Kim. Whenever there was a moment of doubt or a feeling of lowliness, there was a detective with the banner reading: reason, purpose, self-esteem.

What most delighted her was the fact that she could use this mechanism to solve any issue in her head. Listening to Kim speak with such hatred motivated her. It was if she was the coach but the coach was on the field playing, too. The way she would turn a phrase, it would seem like she despised all of existence. But Yawquisha knew that all of this was just pent up after weeks of tracking this vermin down and pinning him to a cell until trial.

Kim pulled up to one of the victim’s former house. The place looked like a matchbox. Low hanging roof, weeds reaching towards the sky like green arms trying to catch a star. The sidewalk was cracked and looked like an earthquake had wedged its way in between the concrete and burst it open in an attempt to destroy everything around it.

Kim and Yawquisha met with the mother who had to be about thirty-five-years-old herself.

“Miss Govern,” Kim said softly. “We’re going to do everything in our power to make sure this—”

“You I like.”

“Excuse me?” Kim asked, her face puzzled.

“I’ve been following your actions online.”

Kim looked at Yawquisha and grinned.

“Of course. You have to forgive me….”

“It’s alright. You actually give a damn. You put in the work and I know my son did not die in vain because there are people like you in the world. This small city, this small state deserves cops like you. I thank you for bringing that bastard to justice.”

A fire was extinguished in Kim’s mind. It wasn’t the fact that someone else had to say something in order to douse the flames. She earned the praise. It was like an official order ceremony on jaunty ground and torn or stairs. Miss Govern had unfolded her arms and embraced Kim.

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